By 6:30 pm, the last of the guests had departed, the washing up was done, my black velvet slacks were hung in my closet and I was in full decompression mode.
As predicted, there is always a mad dash to the end. A dear friend texted me early this morning : Merry Christmas old friend. Breathe. And use a timing list (I always make a list of when items come out of the fridge, when to warm the oven, when an item goes in /out etc to manage my entertaining anxiety, and to set timers in case I get engrossed in conversation. Also I plan what goes in what serving dish.
Such a great idea but unfortunately I was down to the crunch, too late to make a timing list but I will definitely do so next time, if there is a next time.
Forgive this unrelated interlude but my husband wrote this lovely haiku this morning. inspired by our backyard squirrels.
We left later than planned to pick up my mum at the residence where she lives, about forty-five minutes before the other guests were to arrive. She was in a tizzy; apparently the resident handy man figured Christmas Day was as good a day as any to fix the hole in her ceiling from some plumbing work he had done last week. She’d had no access to her bathroom all morning.
Meanwhile at home we had adapted our bathroom to accommodate her mobility issues.
My mother has a hard time following conversation at gatherings like this but she does enjoy being part of the celebration.
The guests started to arrive soon after we got her settled. We served them munchies and a cheese plate. The gourmet chips were a big hit but shockingly, there were lots leftover. I particularly enjoyed the Miss Vickie’s Vodka Pizza Sauce chips and the Chilli and Mango Chutney flavoured ones.
The table looked a bit meh, I mean okay, certainly not as good as I had pictured in my head, but it’s challenging to cram eight people around a smallish table.
This was my husband at the beginning of the day and just a few minutes ago:
My attempt at a group selfie. It should be noted that I have hobbit-sized limbs.
Dessert was fab. Sticky toffee pudding and some Christmas cookies and squares.
After dessert, Ian and his sublimely talented daughter, Ema Jean, sang some Christmas tunes.
My mum and sister left first; mum was overdue for a little snooze in her chair. The rest of the kids played a card game but I am not a fan of games (unless it’s Clue, I love Clue, or Scrabble) so I sat quietly with my coffee and caught up on social media.
We sent everyone home with doggy bags. Doggy bags make me happy because they remind me of my mum and dad, always concerned that I wasn’t eating enough, sending me home with Tupperware containers of leftovers. I am sure I would have starved if it weren’t for them.
My husband and I exchanged Christmas presents last evening to save time today. Here are some of my fav gifts from him:
This is a gorgeous, hardcover copy of Jane Austen’s Mansfield Park.
Check out the pages:
I also received this book of Herman Leonard’s photography, music photography being of particular interest to me.
This present is from Ema Jean and her partner. What a perfect gift for a bookish couple who belong to several book clubs!
Apologies for all the photos in place of text. I am pretty pooped, mostly from the wind-up leading up to this day.
Honestly, it’s not for me, this hosting business. I am not a convert having survived the day. But it is important for my mum and after all the Christmas dinners she hosted for us kids, I owe it to her to suck it up.
Wishing all my readers happy holidays. Hope you spent the day the way you wanted to. I appreciate you.
bogeyandruby 